


Kissed by the Dornish Sun

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Dorne, Elia Martell Deserves Better, Elia Martell-centric, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, POV Elia Martell, Reincarnation, Remix Revival, Second Chances, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26577391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Elia didn't care to remember her first death, or the events immediately preceding it, before waking up beside Oberyn as they rode together across the red-and-white dunes of their homeland.Wherein Elia Martell lives again.(And again, and again, and again...)
Relationships: Elia Martell & Oberyn Martell, Elia Martell & Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	Kissed by the Dornish Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178013) by [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/pseuds/liesmyth). 



I.

Elia didn't care to remember her first death, or the events immediately preceding it, before waking up beside Oberyn as they rode together across the red-and-white dunes of their homeland. She squinted at a pack of sand dogs on the horizon, tearing into some unfortunate carcass, while Oberyn bit into a segment of blood orange, its juices running down his chin. Everything seemed so much sharper and more vibrant than those final days in King's Landing, hazy with smoke and ash. It wasn't until now that she fully realised how she had ached for the Dornish sun on her skin, how much she'd missed her younger brother, and even the elegant, long-necked sand steeds, so unlike the warhorses she'd become accustomed to these past few years. When Oberyn's eyes twinkled, she already knew the joke he was going to make, and she laughed all the same.

There had only been a year between them, but despite their sun kissed skin and dark brown locks, she could see why nobody had ever mistaken the two of them for twins. He was built of bronze, while her complexion was a bloodless gold, his hair thick and lustrous while fine, soft waves tumbled past her shoulders. But they shared the same black viper eyes.

Elia remembered this day well. They were on their way towards Starfall for her to meet another of the numerous potential suitors within the castle's whitewashed walls. Her mother, as ruling Princess of Dorne, had written to what, to Elia and Oberyn, had begun to feel like every noble family in Westeros (with the benefit of hindsight, she was able to laugh at her naïvity).

It struck her then that _perhaps_ this time, if only she was able to find the right words to persuade her, she could urge her mother and consort on to Casterly Rock before Lady Joanna passed. Then, _perhaps,_ things would turn out differently, and there would be no Sack of King's Landing. Rhaenys and Aegon would never be born, and so they would not die such cruel and unusual deaths.

Rhaenys and Aegon would never be born, and so there would forever be a hole in her heart.

But those poor, sweet children, Aegon, in particular, had barely lived. Their own grandfather, the Mad King, would not touch or look at them, complaining that they "smelled Dornish". The truth was that Elia and her children had never been safe in King's Landing - she'd known that for a long time. It was no life for a child to lead.

It seemed too easy when all it took to convince her mother to push on to Casterly Rock was a rather lukewarm appreciation of Jaime Lannister's looks, based on the portrait she'd laid eyes upon (she knew this particular artist's portraits to lean on the more flattering side, and didn't wish to get her hopes up).

"Golden twins," Oberyn mused, arching a brow. "That sounds almost too good to be true." And it was. The last thing Elia saw as the bandit's spear pierced her flesh was the promise of vengeance in her brother's black viper eyes.

II.

Elia blinked, and she was back in Sunspear, playing in one of the pools in the Water Gardens, beneath the shade of the blood orange trees. Oberyn was splashing around with a couple of lowborn children, left to play in the gardens while their parents worked. Her elder brother supervised along with his new wife from the Free City of Norvos. Seeing how happy Doran and Lady Mellario had been then, she felt a knot forming in her child-sized stomach. Perhaps, in some ways, her marriage to Rhaegar was not so bad. They had never fallen deeply, madly in love as her brother and Mellario had, but neither had they spent half their married life at one another's throats as these newlyweds were destined to.

If only Rhaegar hadn't run away with Lyanna and started a damn _war._

He had not been unkind, but there were times when Elia had wondered if he'd inherited a sliver of his father's madness, prone as he was to bouts of melancholy or moments of intensity that bordered on feverishness. Rhaegar had been enamoured with the image she'd painted of children from all walks of life playing together in the Water Gardens, she recalled, though he'd never had the opportunity to visit them. Her husband had been intelligent, but almost naïve in his idealism, to a fault. Elia found it entirely possible to believe that he truly had not anticipated the consequences of his departure with Lyanna.

She had met Lyanna once or twice and, despite the cliché, 'she-wolf' was truly the best moniker she could think of to describe her. It was by no means a slight in Elia's mind - simply an acknowledgement of the wildness and cunning intelligence behind the woman's eyes. Once she'd even joked with Rhaegar that under more favourable circumstances, she could have fallen for Lyanna herself, but he'd just looked at her with those sad, violet eyes of his.

So deep in self-reflection was Elia, that this time around she failed to notice the rambunctious play of the other children around her, until she was face down in the water.

III.

Elia soon discovered the pattern. Whenever she behaved differently - acted where she hadn't, or refused to act when she had - she died. Sometimes it was violent or painful, other times she drifted away peacefully, surrounded by loved ones, milk of the poppy flowing through her veins. But still, she was determined. Her body might have been frail, but her mind and her will never had been. She would save herself, _and_ her children, she decided. She would make it back before those awful moments in King's Landing and it would be different this time. She would persevere.

She would prevail.

IV.

The last time she awoke, it was to Rhaegar's hands placing a crown of ice-blue roses upon her head. The flowers clashed against her golden skin and the colour of her dress, a perfect match for the Red Dunes of Dorne.

“What happened?” Elia asked her silver-haired husband, after the tourney. “I thought you meant to give it to the Stark girl.” The roses had felt heavy upon her head, and part of her wished Rhaegar had crowned Lyanna this time, too. His smile contained blame and guilt, in equal measures.

“In front of this company? Lord Robert would have killed me.” Elia laughed, and took his hand. The crown felt strange upon her head, to be sure, but if she could be crowned the queen of love and beauty here and now, anything could happen. This time, something had changed, and yet she lived. This time, perhaps _she_ would be the one to escape their gilded cage. She would leave King's Landing and her children's skin would be kissed by the Dornish sun. She would persevere.

She would prevail.


End file.
